


Impossible Choice

by Stylin_Breeze



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Military, Angst, Blackmail, Gen, Moniwa suffers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:07:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25928632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stylin_Breeze/pseuds/Stylin_Breeze
Summary: Moniwa knew it was technically wrong, but they didn't discuss anything bad. They knew the boundaries they had to keep.Perhaps Moniwa's mistake was believing he'd never get caught.
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797484
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the prompt "Blackmail" and the ship IwaMoni.
> 
> I actually wrote two fics for the prompt. This was my initial idea, but it was the opposite of what the requester wanted, so I threw the requestor a bone and wrote a second fic while "officially" submitting this one for the bingo card. XD
> 
> Details on how to send in a request are on my [tumblr](https://stylinbreeze60.tumblr.com/).

_“…I actually met a boy out here.… He’s quite handsome. Very smooth. We’re talking of getting hitched when the world is in a better state….”_

Moniwa cracked a smile at the handwritten letter. His cousin Mai went on about the mysterious gentleman she’d met in Tokyo, although her new lover apparently had to leave the city due to work. Kaname hoped things went well for them, whatever occupation the suitor had.

When Moniwa’s fellow officer Futakuchi grandstanded into the room, Kaname folded up his mail and slotted it firmly into his pocket.

Colonel Kenji Futakuchi threw himself into the vinyl loveseat in the officers’ mess with a theatrical sigh. Colonel Takanobu Aone, nose in a book, didn’t give the cry for attention one glance. On the far side of the room, fellow brigade commander Colonel Moniwa was comfortably out of range of Futakuchi’s supplications.

Seeing that he hadn’t obtained an audience yet, Futakuchi resorted to other means. “I can’t _wait_ to get transferred to Tokyo,” he sighed loudly. This did earn a momentary glance from Aone.

“You just got back, didn’t you?” Moniwa, the oldest of the three childhood friends, genteelly said.

“Tokyo is so nice, dudes. The officers actually get cushy treatment, unlike this forsaken joint.”

As the residence of the military junta, Tokyo was loaded with military units. Futakuchi’s brigade had just returned to Miyagi from Tokyo after aiding the search for rebels in the outskirts, and it earned some prestige for the “hillbilly” unit.

“Futakuchi,” Moniwa teased, sensing what Kenji was really implying, “you know they won’t give us guys a second thought in replacing Gen. Kuroo.” Recently the commander of the Nekoma Corps in Tokyo got promoted, leaving a vacancy to be filled.

Kenji smirked. “They wouldn’t, if I didn’t already have a few favors saved up,” he sneered so deviously it was clearly not a bluff. Likewise, it was clear Futakuchi wanted the duo to inquire what favors he was talking about, but it was also clear Futakuchi had no intention of disclosing his secrets and just wanted the opportunity to gloat more.

The phone rang. Aone tracked Moniwa across the room to the red phone on the desk, signaling a call from the higher-ups.

“Col. Moniwa,” Kaname answered.

“Moniwa, come to my office,” replied the gruff but stately voice of their senior officer, General Hajime Iwaizumi, commander of the Seijoh Corps.

Kaname tidied himself up, neatly folded his coat over his arm, and squarely centered his peaked cap atop his head. Futakuchi joked with Aone, who nodded politely, while Moniwa headed upstairs.

Iwaizumi’s room felt like a penthouse in the monolithic block that served as corps headquarters. Moniwa gave Gen. Iwaizumi due deference and felt weird even cracking the door to someone so esteemed in the military state that had run Japan for decades.

As usual, the general was hard at work, reviewing a communique at the desk. He made sure to slot it into a drawer when Moniwa entered.

“Please close the door,” Hajime commanded his obliging visitor.

“You called me?” Kaname said politely.

“Yes, Moniwa,” said the commander of Moniwa’s, Aone’s, and Futakuchi’s parent unit. “I want to ask you something. Does the name Mai Nametsu mean anything to you?”

Moniwa felt his heart sink into his stomach, but he didn’t let it show on his face.

“She’s my cousin,” he said, keeping calm.

“Where does she live?”

Moniwa pretended these questions were as innocent as asking about the weather. “In Tokyo.”

“Do you ever to talk to her?”

His heart sank deeper, and he let his nervousness slip for a millisecond. Iwaizumi didn’t give away whether he noticed. “We send letters,” Kaname said vaguely.

“What do you say in the letters?”

“We just talk cordially. Nothing more,” he said quickly. Moniwa felt a faint reassurance that his statement was true.

“What does she do for a living?”

The anxiety returned full force. “She, uh, was a tailor,” Moniwa said, hoping futilely the conversation would end here.

“And what does she do now?”

Moniwa couldn’t bring himself to reply, and his silence was incriminating enough.

“So, you know the problem here,” Hajime said knowingly.

They both indeed knew the problem here: Mai Nametsu was a wanted dissident.

Moniwa moved quickly to defend his actions. “General, please. You must believe me. We never talk about anything. She’s my cousin. We’ve been friends since we were kids. I don’t know where she sends the mail from. I know nothing about her location. She just likes to stay in touch. No one reads the letters besides me and Aone.” The sweat on his forehead glistened in the ceiling lamp over Iwaizumi’s desk. Hajime’s face remained perfectly stoic, betraying neither if he was persuaded by Moniwa’s pleas nor if he was prejudiced against them.

Hajime signaled for Moniwa to stop, which the brigade chief uneasily did.

“No, I believe you. But that’s immaterial. Carrying on communication with a subversive is illegal. You are liable to the same penalty she will face whenever she is arrested, no matter the innocence of your exchanges.”

Moniwa shivered. He knew it was wrong. He should have reported the letters and stopped replying. But he didn’t want to.

“—That is, if High Command already knew about this,” Iwaizumi cryptically added.

Moniwa didn’t know what to make of this qualification.

“This information has yet to be forwarded up the chain of command, and I intend not to do so—if you do me a favor….”

Moniwa slapped his hands on the desk. “Yes! Anything!” His spittle sprinkled Iwaizumi’s face. The brigade commander backed away apologetically while Iwaizumi dabbed his cheeks and nose with a handkerchief.

“Tell me,” he continued unbothered, “has Futakuchi said anything about returning to Tokyo?”

Moniwa didn’t know how to process this sudden change in subject, but he chose to answer honestly.

“Um, yes, he did. He said…he’s applied for Gen. Kuroo’s vacancy.”

“Ah,” said Iwaizumi in mock surprise, putting the handkerchief away. “Do you think he’ll get it?”

Even though the topic had changed, Kaname felt like a mouse suspended in the air by its tail, being batted around before being killed. “He, uh, sounds like he’s confident…. He, uh, mentioned he has some connections in Tokyo….”

“I see.”

Iwaizumi got up and donned his jacket. “Listen, Moniwa. It is my professional opinion that Kenji Futakuchi is not qualified to command a corps. He’s an embarrassment to the officer class.” Iwaizumi pulled his cap firmly onto his head by the brim. “No one will listen to me though, so you’re going to help stop his transfer.”

“What do you want me to do?” Moniwa asked nervously.

“Simple,” said Iwaizumi. “You know Futakuchi very well. The two of you are friends, no? That means he’s comfortable around you. He won’t be suspicious.”

“S-suspicious of what?” Moniwa quivered.

“That you would murder him.”

Moniwa’s heart froze.

“Obviously make it look like an accident or a suicide, of course. Do that, and I will pretend your correspondences with Mai Nametsu don’t exist.” Iwaizumi appended mundanely. “Anyway, I have a meeting.”

“Sir! I can’t do that!” Moniwa protested desperately.

“Then I’m afraid you’ll be executed for treason,” Hajime indicted. “If Kenji Futakuchi is not dead by tomorrow morning, I will take that as your answer, Col. Moniwa.”

Iwaizumi showed Kaname out to finish getting ready. Moniwa made his way pensively to the restroom. Alone in a stall, he cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is already written. Right now I plan to post next weekend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Moniwa wrestles with his conscience, Futakuchi proposes a celebration for his inevitable promotion.

Moniwa read and reread Mai’s letter in the officers’ mess, attempting futilely to cheer his spirits with Mai’s perseverance amidst the constant adversity of being a fugitive. Futakuchi and Aone had left by the time Moniwa returned from Iwaizumi’s upstairs office. Kaname closed his eyes, leaned back, and envisioned his cousin happily engaged, celebrating a public wedding, free from fear, danger, or trepidation. Despite the wishful image, his face scrunched in pain, not unnoticed by Aone who reentered the room.

“Your cousin wrote you,” Takanobu Aone said when he spotted the letter folded on Moniwa’s chest. Moniwa often shared the letters with his longtime friend.

“Yeah. Sounds like she found a boyfriend,” Moniwa blushed, but a frown remained, and Aone couldn’t be fooled by it.

“That makes you sad?”

“Huh? No. I’ve got something on my mind….”

Then Futakuchi raucously kicked the door so hard it threatened to fly off the hinges. He tramped in carrying a crate filled with bottles.

“Guess what? We’re having a party tonight!” he sang, waving a cheap liquor bottle about. “Already booked the space in the town over. Y’all with me?!”

Moniwa and Aone glanced at one another. Babysitting a drunk Futakuchi was a fulltime job.

Kenji studied the bottles meticulously, trying to pointlessly arrange them by “vintage,” which in this case was measured in days, not years. Not able to think about aimless entertainment right now, Moniwa’s faced soured even more.

“Come on! I can’t have a party without you two! You’re the only fun ones around!” Kenji exclaimed.

Pushing Iwaizumi’s ultimatum to the corners of his mind, Moniwa forced a smile. “Sure,” he said with repressed melancholy.

He didn’t want to think about Iwaizumi’s ultimatum. Futakuchi looked so jubilant this moment, carefree and completely secure in the presence of the pair.

The man would never suspect either of them would ever try to hurt him. Iwaizumi’s comment that Kenji’s comfortability around Moniwa would make Kaname’s task easy replayed involuntarily in Moniwa’s head.

As long as Moniwa knew Futakuchi, the latter liked to party. And as much as Futakuchi liked to boast, one thing he could not boast of was his ability to hold his liquor. The man got drunker quicker than a mouse in a beer keg; and when he got drunk, it was no exaggeration.

That being said, it was always a wild time.

After Moniwa volunteered to go, Aone revealed he’d received an assignment from Gen. Iwaizumi and so didn’t show in the rented banquet hall at the small hotel. Thus, Moniwa knew from the start he’d be the designated driver, whether Futakuchi asked or not.

It might be said that a dystopia was only as successful as the people maintaining it, and one of the core weaknesses of the current regime (which was illegal to publicly admit) was its systemic corruption. It was one reason why the resistance only grew by the second, angered as much by a repressive state as they were by the malfeasance that crippled the military’s ability to crush that dissent. Almost everyone had secrets they were hiding; Moniwa’s communications with a rebel were perhaps objectively quite tame.

All that being said, Moniwa didn’t care much for the totalitarian institution that employed him. He did his job to make a living, while deep down feeling these piecemeal efforts to break up the rebels were more of a Vietnam-style sham than a credible military exercise.

It was also why Moniwa knew he shouldn’t accept Iwaizumi’s ultimatum.

Kaname Moniwa had been caught doing illegal activity. Having his secret brought to light exposed how two-faced Moniwa was, fighting the rebels by day and quietly hoping they win by night. For the first time in his military career, he was forced to face how untenable his double position was.

As Futakuchi got drunker and drunker, the party slower and slower, Moniwa resisted the urge to drown himself in booze far more fiercely than he resisted the rebels. Watching Kenji try squat dancing on a table, Moniwa reflected on their growing up together: how Kenji falsely claimed sole responsibility for the pair sneaking away from primary school, sparing Kaname the lashes; how Kaname, Kenji, and Takanobu stopped at the turtle pond when walking home from secondary school every day; how teenage Kenji once saw a photo of Mai and squealed, “she’s cute!”

Moniwa and Futakuchi didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, but their friendship and that with Aone withstood all that. Moniwa couldn’t forsake those memories for momentary selfish reasons. That, and—no matter what Iwaizumi thinks—Moniwa believed Futakuchi to be a perfectly capable officer. As long as the regime existed, Futakuchi deserved to rise in its ranks instead of being squashed by it.

That left one option for Moniwa: run away.

At the end of the night, Kaname manhandled the nearly blacked-out Kenji into the passenger seat of his car. It was 2 a.m.. He just had to drive Kenji home. Then, Kaname would leave.

Somewhere. Anywhere. Perhaps to Mai’s side….

Futakuchi began to regain cognizance during the car ride, his mind floating to his idealized future in Tokyo. “It’s gonna be soooo sweet. Comfy beds, fresh coffee, stronger booze….” He cackled at his own remark there.

“You’ll enjoy it,” Moniwa said.

“You bet I will!” Kenji screamed, assailing Kaname’s eardrums. “And the best part is—wait.” He snickered. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you that….”

“Whatever it is, that’s probably wise,” said Kaname with a faint chuckle.

“Well, you’re a good guy, and you won’t do anything with the info,” Futakuchi whispered.

Moniwa said nothing, his eyes focused on the curved valley road in front, river to the left and wooded slope to the right.

“Imma let you in on a secret. Don’t tell no one, OK? It’s why I got my transfer. But you can’t tell no one, got it?!”

“Mhm,” Moniwa said. Not that Kenji would know it, but who was Moniwa going to tell once he himself trotted off into the night in a couple of hours?

Futakuchi giggled like a little child, bursting with excitement to share a secret. He leaned in close to Moniwa. “I know where the rebels’ base is in Tokyo.”

The car’s brakes slammed hard. Futakuchi, without a seatbelt, sprawled over the dashboard, his head dizzy for a moment.

Moniwa gawped at Futakuchi and wanted Kenji to repeat his statement, hoping he misheard. But Moniwa knew he hadn’t misheard.

He didn’t know how Futakuchi acquired this alleged knowledge, but if he were transferred to Tokyo, knowledge like that might eliminate the resistance instantly.

Including Mai….

“Geez! Learn how to drive!” Futakuchi griped, cushioning his forehead that now hurt worse than the inevitable hangover.

“S-Sorry,” Moniwa said, pretending to be fixated on something on the steep, tree-dotted slope. “I thought I heard something….”

“Wha? Where?” Kenji let himself out of the car to investigate.

Kaname left the engine running as he followed Futakuchi, who was climbing the hillside on his own accord.

“Where at?” Kenji called.

“Up there.”

“What? I don’t see nothing.”

“It’s there.” Moniwa pulled out his handgun.

“I think you’re hearing things!”

Kaname fired one shot, echoing through the deserted valley.

Gen. Hajime Iwaizumi used the trees to assist his climb. A ways up from the road, there lay the fresh corpse of Kenji Futakuchi. The general descended to Moniwa, moping beside the car, face buried in his knees.

“Excellent. He left a party drunk, was ambushed by the resistance who shot him. It’s unimpeachable,” Iwaizumi commended matter-of-factly. Moniwa didn’t accept the compliments.

Iwaizumi arranged for the body to be disposed of and returned to HQ with Moniwa. Back in Iwaizumi’s office in the wee hours of the morning, Moniwa refused eye contact with his superior.

“I’m actually surprised you went through with it,” Hajime said in a feeble attempt to show empathy. “I know how this will affect your cousin.”

Moniwa broke from his depressive stupor to question Iwaizumi’s face.

“Oh? I assumed you knew your cousin and Futakuchi were dating. Course, I only found out yesterday. It had nothing to do with why I think Futakuchi was a hack….” The rest of the general’s statements fell on deaf ears. Images of Mai cascaded through Moniwa’s mind. She spoke so highly of the tall, handsome bit-of-a-bad-boy she met—about whom she prudently had said nothing of his occupation, only that he was in a position to greatly help them….

Kaname understood now what she and Futakuchi had meant…as well as the gravity of his own actions.

He collapsed to his knees and devolved into ugly tears. Iwaizumi made no move to curtail the display.

“Anyway, as promised, I will not report your exchanges to the higher-ups.”

Kaname Moniwa was beyond listening. He couldn’t accept what he’d done, what had happened. It was a lie. He hadn’t done this. None of it had happened. Iwaizumi knew nothing. He recited every denial in his mind to futilely make them true.

“Please stand, Kaname Moniwa,” Iwaizumi commanded.

Moniwa wailed some more, and Iwaizumi waited patiently until the man calmed himself down enough to obey the order. Kaname got to his feet, but his eyes remained fixed on the floor.

“I hope it’s clear to you that what happened tonight must never be repeated to anyone.”

Moniwa said nothing, trying not to cry.

“I want to know that you understand that,” Iwaizumi said again.

Kaname sniffed and nodded.

“Yes, I understand….”

“Good,” said Iwaizumi who then activated the intercom on his desk. “Come in.”

Entering the room now in response, poised on the other side of the office door for an indeterminate amount of time, was Takanobu Aone. Kaname’s puffy red eyes questioned what Takanobu was doing here.

With no words, Aone drew his pistol and fired a bullet between those puffy red eyes.

There was silence. Iwaizumi peered at Moniwa’s body leaking blood over the carpet.

“Thank you, Aone,” he said and proceeded to position Moniwa’s pistol in the dead man’s hands to emulate a suicide.

“Sorry, Moniwa, but this is the only way to protect myself….”

Aone did feel sorrow for a moment but accepted the necessity of it all.

After all, as he had secretly informed Iwaizumi many a times when Moniwa shared his letters, he knew Kaname Moniwa was communicating with a fugitive.

Moniwa wasn’t the only one Aone was snitching on, though. During Moniwa’s conversation with Iwaizumi that afternoon, Futakuchi had confided something else: he had fallen in love with a girl, who was a rebel in Tokyo, named Mai Nametsu.

Ironically, Aone quickly realized Futakuchi didn’t know it was Moniwa’s cousin….

When soldiers entered the room, Iwaizumi stated Moniwa had confessed to murdering Kenji Futakuchi and shot himself. Takanobu Aone attested to be a witness. The morning promised to be full of report writing for Iwaizumi, but it was worth it.

When the commotion died down and Iwaizumi and Aone were alone again, Hajime would have dismissed Takanobu if a last-minute thought hadn’t occurred to him.

“One more thing, Aone. As we agreed, in gratitude for your cooperation, I will submit the paperwork to headquarters recommending your promotion to fill Gen. Kuroo’s vacancy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a fan of sad endings, and yet this happened....
> 
> I still have 17 more Bad Things Happen Bingo prompts open! Visit my [tumblr](https://stylinbreeze60.tumblr.com/) for info!


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